


Maybe With You

by frecklesandwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Your Usual Marriage Fic, Sam Ships It, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesandwings/pseuds/frecklesandwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are forced to crash a wedding in order to hunt down a siren. Of course, that's the last place Dean wants to find himself in, not just because weddings are lame (although that's a given) but because they tend to arise many unwanted feelings towards his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe With You

“A wedding?” 

“Yes, Dean. A wedding.” Sam confirmed again, rolling his eyes.

And okay, fine, maybe Dean was overreacting a little at the prospect. As Sam had pointed out, pretending to be guests at a wedding wasn’t the most absurd thing they had ever done to solve a case. Point was: _they_ had done it. As in, he and Sam. Sam, who currently laid sick under a tons of sheets, with marked bags under his puppy eyes and a cup of hot tea in his hands. Sam, who, given his state, wasn’t going to help in the actual undercover act, leaving him to take care of it. With Cas.  
Him and Cas at a wedding. Hunting a siren. That was just peachy.

“If you’re concerned my social skills will ruin our cover I can always -” Cas stepped in, lowering his eyes as if Dean could kick him in the shins and he’d just take it.

“Come on, Cas. It’s not that.” He rubbed a hand on his face. “It’s just that weddings... Ugh.”

“Oh, yes. Let’s leave these people’s lives hanging in the balance because weddings are, as you so elaborately described, ugh.” Sam’s snark cut worse than a knife. Dean had learned over the years that sickness would only make it worse than usual.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t go.” Dean finally agreed. “I’m just saying that I’m not looking forward to the formal outwear, the heart eyes of two unlucky souls who are willingly choosing to tie the knot, the overwhelming nauseating smell of flowers...”

“How many weddings have you actually been to, Dean?”

“Yours, in case you forgot.” Dean shivered at the memory of Sam and Becky. “Definitely validating my point.”

Sam’s bitch face put a stop to the discussion.

-

“Wow. Just... Wow.” Dean commented, his eyebrows inevitably raising in a mixture of disgust and sarcasm. He stared at his reflection in the bunker bathroom’s mirror, pondering on whether or not he should tear apart the freaking napkin popping up from his pocket. In all honesty, the suit wasn’t all bad. Simple, black, not that different from the FBI ones, except for the V-cut of the jacket. It was more the small details that bothered him, see: said napkin (or pochette, whatever its fancy name was) and the bow tie.

“Are you ready, Dean?” Cas asked, popping in. Dean saw him in the mirror, before he had the chance to turn around, and stopped mid-track, mouth open and gaping, because... _Wow_. Just wow. For real this time. Cas stood there, all wide eyes and just the hint of stubble he had grown since becoming human, wearing skinny grey trousers and a blue jacket over a white and blue flannel shirt. No tie, no bow-tie, just the semi-unbuttoned shirt which revealed far too much of a gorgeous neck in which Dean would have loved to bury his face.

“You -” Dean cleared his voice, struggling really hard not to sound as struck as he felt. “You lookin’ good.”

“Thank you.”  
A bright smile lightened Cas’s features. That seemed to happen ever so often since he gave up his grace: a soft smile would grow into a laugh, a bitter remark would turn into bickering, disrespect of personal space would become napping together on the couch. Which was totally normal, Dean had concluded. Totally bound to happen when the dude’s emotions had been intensified all of a sudden. Dean just seemed to be in the way (or the cause) of these emotional outbursts, sometimes.

“Sam picked the suit.” Cas added, since Dean was too lost in his thoughts to reply. “He said it would match my eyes.”  
Not Ruby, not the demon blood, not the apocalypse, not the damn Book of the Damned. _This_ , this right here, would have been the reason Dean ripped his little brother apart into small, infinitesimal pieces.

“Yeah, I- I guess I can see why he’d say that.” He commented, finally managing to turn around.

“He wants to talk to you, by the way.”

“Really? What about?”

Cas just shrugged.

“Great. First, he kicks out of the bunker on a case that’s a thousand miles away because _he needs some alone time to recover his strength_. Now he won’t let us leave because he wants to talk. I swear to God sometimes...”

“I’m sure it won’t take long.” Cas reassured him, as if Dean really had a point, when, in fact, he was just being a whiny brat. He knew that. But he smiled nevertheless when Cas picked his side, as usual.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll be right out.”

As he made his way out of the door, wondering what else Sam could ever possibly want, Cas called him back.  
  
 “Dean.”

“What?”

Cas stared for a moment, not saying anything. Then he relaxed and smiled again.

“You’re looking good too.”

-

“I just wanted to remind you that it’s a siren you’re hunting.”   
  
“Yeah, Sam, I picked that up the first hundred times we went over this case. When I’ll see a redhead Nicole Kidman walk my way, I’ll make sure not to listen to my dick.”

“Don’t get all snarky with me. You’ve been fooled once by one of these things.”

“Duh, because it turned into a dude. Nobody saw that one coming. They’re tricky sons of bitches. I’ll be ready for anything this time.”

“It’s just-” Sam lowered his eyes before looking at Dean again. “It’s you and Cas.”

“Meaning?” Dean could hear his own tone getting immediately more defensive. He couldn’t help it.

“Just make sure you keep an eye on each other at all times, alright? Preventing the siren to take your or his place and trick the other one into... You know.”

“No, Sam. I don’t.”  
False. And he knew that Sam knew he was lying. It was childish to deny it, but admitting what Sam was implying... That was just a can of worms he wasn’t going to open.

“Fine, whatever. You don’t have to say it.” Sam shot back, clearly irritated. “I just wanted to remind you.”

“Not to worry. Even if that happened, I’d spot siren Cas right away. Because, you know, neither of the real us has any intention of exchanging saliva in the near future.”  
  
 “Whatever you say, Dean.”

Dean turned his back at him, picking up the bag he had dropped by the door.

“Get better soon, alright jerk?”

Sam sipped from what probably was his fifth cup of tea of the day.

“You got it, bitch.”

-

It was a twenty-four hours drive from Lebanon to Burlington, Vermont. The wedding was going to be in thirty-six.  
Too bad Sam didn’t found the case sooner: it would have spared Dean (and Baby) the rush to drive all that way with only one stop allowed. No way they could get to the wedding on time, otherwise. Despite his dislike for the setting, Dean had to admit this one siren had to be put down as soon as possible. Four weddings turned into massacres in the last two months: two in Boston, Massachusetts, two in Concordia, New Hampshire, on the first and last day of each month. It was either Maine or Vermont’s turn, but they checked and noticed only Burlington had a wedding planned for that day. Lucky shot, for once.  
According to the reports, some of the guests suddenly went homicidal and jumped on their loved ones, only to later say they had met the person of their dreams at the wedding and felt compelled to kill after sleeping with them. Classic m.o., just faster. Dean knew, by experience, weddings were in the top five of “best places to get laid”: unless they’re the ones getting married, people are always miserable at weddings, willing to do anything to prove to themselves they’re not as lonely and bitter as the happy new-born couple makes them feel. So yeah, a hundred percent siren-hunting territory.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked, interrupting his thoughts. His voice was husky and sleepy.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. Now I’m awake.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Dean smiled, glad to have Cas’s company back. “Nothing, by the way. Just how desperate people can be for love, sometimes.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yeah, if it makes you sleep with sirens and then go all Jack Nicholson on your wife.”

Cas nodded, although Dean was pretty sure he hadn’t fully got the reference. He ought to make him watch _The Shining_. They were still stuck on _Lord Of The Rings_ , because Cas kept falling asleep during the final battle in _Return of The King_. Which Dean totally didn’t get, since that was the best part. But no, Cas liked the intimate scenes, the relationships, the character development... All that bullshit.

“It’s understandable, though, isn’t it?” Cas added, gazing out of the window to the impending twilight.

“What?”

“The need for love. To crave for something that makes us feel less... Alone.”

“Alone is safer.”

Dean turned to Cas as he said it, his heart sinking a little at the thought of his best friend - cough, love of his life, cough - feeling that way. _Alone sucks_ , he corrected himself mentally. He hated his harshness, the fact that he never encouraged Cas to look at the world outside of the bunker or never cherished the new hobbies he found. It’s not that he didn’t want Cas to be happy. He wanted that more than anything. Yet the selfish, lonely, sad part of his soul was scared to shit that Cas’s happiness would turn out to be somewhere Dean didn’t belong to. And Dean certainly wasn’t looking forward to that.

-

They stopped for peeing and a quick dinner somewhere outside of Toledo. The fancy outfits raised a few questioning glances in the diner, but Dean was far too hungry to even care.

“I thought you didn’t like black olives.” Dean commented, as Cas picked one from their shared plate of sides. It had become a sort of tradition for them, to get one of those huge mixed appetisers plates: Sam had always kept his distance from all the fats and french fries, sweet potatoes and olives were too much food even for Dean’s stomach, therefore, with this method, they all won. Although, in the end, since Dean hated sweet potatoes and Cas didn’t like olives, they ended up sharing just the french fries, but neither of them ever complained about it, thus they kept it going.  
  
Cas looked at the olive for a moment, then put it back down.

“I don’t.”

“Then why were you about to eat one?”

“I...” Cas’s eyes narrowed, as it happened when he was thinking very hard about something. “I thought I was picking a french fry.”

“Cas, buddy, how do you confuse an olive with a french fry?”

“I need to use the restroom.” Cas abruptly cut him off, sliding out of their booth. “I’ll be back soon.”

Being human certainly didn’t help Cas with the weird factor. It did, however, with the hunger one, Dean noticed: he had devoured all his disgusting sweet potatoes. Then, a suspect crawled into his mind. He picked out his phone and started texting.

 _Sam. This is important. Does Cas like olives?_  
_D._

Sam’s answer came thankfully right away.

_What the hell, Dean?_

He rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t his brother just mind his own business, for once.

_Just answer the question._

_I guess? Sometimes when we order pizza he gets the one with the olives. Why?_

Cas never, ever, ordered the one with olives when Dean was there. _Never_.

_Just wondering._

He quickly texted back, putting the phone in his pocket. Then, with a fond grin on his face, he slid a few of the olives in Cas’s burger. He tried his best to look unaffected (and not as if his heart was exploding with affection for the adorability of Cas’s pretence) when Cas came back and bit down on the burger, moaning happily at the taste. If Cas noticed there was something different about it, he didn’t say anything.

-

After parking the car, It didn’t take long for Dean and Cas to find the church in which the wedding was supposed to be held. Several people were already gathered outside, smiling and hugging each other, teary eyes all around.

“Why can’t people get married in the afternoon...” Dean snorted, rubbing his eyes repeatedly and stealing Cas’s cup of coffee from his hands.

“Suit yourself, uh?” Cas replied, his eyebrows raised.

“I’m the one who just drove a thousand miles.”

“Why don’t you check in in a motel somewhere? Get some rest. I’ll keep an eye open during the ceremony and you can reach me at the reception later. I doubt the siren is going to approach anyone at the church.”

Every fibre of Dean’s being craved to follow Cas’s suggestion, although it was the exact opposite of what Sam had recommended. But Cas didn’t have any experience with sirens, which made him just as much a candidate for the creature as anyone else. Well, considering how stunning he looked in that suit, even more now that his hair was sticking up all over, Dean really wouldn’t have blamed a siren for spotting him right away.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He replied. “I’m not letting you go through this boring-ass ceremony all alone.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be boring.” Cas pondered, gazing around.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is excited to be here. Wake me up when it’s over, please.” Dean mumbled.

He lead the way up the stairs, nodding and waving at the various people he crossed paths with, as if he’d always known them. Finally, he sneaked in one of the furthest benches from the altar, Cas awkwardly trailing behind him.  
It was a good spot, Dean realised soon after: lateral enough that a regular guest would avoid it in favour of a bench that granted a better view of the altar, but from whose angle it was possible to get a good look at the whole church. As he suspected, nobody else sat beside them.

-

Dean didn’t seriously think he’d fall asleep, but at some point during the bride’s entrance he drifted off, only to wake up as the vows were being exchanged, with his head and drooling mouth comfortably resting on Cas’s shoulder. He jerked away and blushed.

“Why did you let me fall asleep?!” Dean hissed, nudging Cas on the side.

“What part about all that you said so far was supposed to make me believe you’d have any interest in not missing this wedding?”

Dean made a face at Cas’s sarcasm and focused on the couple at the altar: the vows ought to be the most awkward part. At least he’d get some fun from being stuck there.

“So, in spite of all that we’ve been through, I can say now that a part of me always believed we’d make it here.” The groom concluded, a tear falling down his cheek.  
Okay, fine, maybe the words might have sounded slightly familiar to something Dean had been holding inside for far too long. Slightly.

“I need you, Matt. I can’t believe I’m saying this in front of a room full of people, because you know how hard it is for me to admit it, but I do.” The bride reprised and Dean, suddenly, didn’t feel like laughing. If anything, he was about to choke on the nod in his throat.

“I always need you. I need you when I wake up early and the kitchen is silent and lonely without you complaining about the heating not working, I need you when I can’t pick a movie even if I know you’ll make me watch one of your stupid documentaries, I need you to be with me even for the most insignificant things: I need you close to be able to fall asleep, I need you to listen to me, I need you because you’re the only thing that makes sense when everything else goes to shi- uhm, bad.”  
  
A small laugh raised from the benches. Even Cas giggled. From his little corner, Dean just wanted to bury himself six feet under the Earth and never come out again. If those were the kind of things normal people told each other on their wedding day, how was he supposed to even remotely interpret what he felt for Cas? Because what this bride seemed to think was the best way to express her undying love, for him it was just Sunday dinner. Sure, he needed Cas, and although it had took him a long-ass time to admit it, it was clear to him now. He needed him, he wanted him, not just to pick a movie or fight a nest of vampires or clean the kitchen or whatever, he needed him like - well, air was a bit cliché, and perhaps untrue, because he could, potentially, live without Cas. But life without Cas sucked. It was like a constant drowning darkness, as if a light had been permanently shut off somewhere in his soul. LIke living without the sun or the stars. Without the sky.  
Yes, that had to be it.

“Do you want to get married, Dean?” Cas whispered, interrupting his embarrassing flow of thoughts. For just a second, Dean’s mind made the foolish mistake of assuming Cas meant it as a proposal, and was about to answer with a pathetic _“Why not, would June be okay with you?”_ , but, thankfully, he regained control of his faculties before that could happen.

“Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes, not looking at Cas. “And legally bound someone to be in constant danger? No thanks.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Cas pointed out, to which Dean shot a questioning glance. “It means you can’t do it, because it’d put someone in danger. What I asked was whether you’d like to. If... Circumstances were different.”

Dean pondered said circumstances for a moment: maybe, if he was a mechanic with a crush on the hot librarian always bringing his car in for repair, maybe, if he and Cas met in history class, in a universe where he actually attended an high school or even a college, maybe, if Cas turned out to be the doctor looking after him when he got hurt in a rugby game, maybe, if their own universe wasn’t so cruel and cold and ready to extinguish any form of beauty that bloomed in it.

“Maybe.” He finally answered, grateful that two syllables could form a valid answer, because anything longer than that would have been a crying sentence.  
Cas seemed satisfied and his lips curled up a little. In such moments, Dean suspected that Cas knew. That he felt the same way, but was just better than Dean at hiding it. In such moments, Dean wanted to say more, something that would clarify the matter and settle it once and for all. Something like: “I love you and you love me but it just can’t happen in this life”. He never did, though.  
He simply smiled in response as his mind finished its sentence instead of his lips. _Maybe, with you_.

-

Dean swallowed the fifth slice of tarte Tatin.  
  
 “We should crash wedding receptions more often!” He mumbled, with his mouth still full. “This thing is like a pie for fancy people.”

“Dean, I don’t think the best way to go unnoticed is to finish this people’s food.”

“Please, I haven’t eaten that much.”

“Who do you suppose the siren could be?” Cas asked, squinting his eyes as he not-so-subtly moved the mirror around. For a moment, Dean had forgotten they were actually there because of a case.

“I got no clue. Did any creepy-looking face showed up in the mirror?”

“No.”

“Then we’re stuck. Let’s go and chat with some of the couples, see how many of them met tonight.”

Such plan didn’t prove to be very effective. The number of newly-formed couples was below ten and none of their faces deformed when Dean observed them through the mirror.

“I swear, this is the first wedding in the history of forever where guests keep it in their pants...” He mumbled, collapsing on a chair.

“I feel like we’re missing something...” Cas pondered. “This place is crowded with happy couples. I doubt anyone would cheat on their partner so openly...”

“So maybe the siren doesn’t need to look like someone new. Maybe it just needs to take someone’s place.” He sprung up from his chair and, without thinking twice about the awkwardness of the plan he was about to put on, he grabbed a glass of champagne and jumped on the stage on which the band was playing earlier. Thankfully, the mic was still there.

“Hello everyone.” He started, as all the guests turned towards him in question. “I’d like to propose a toast... To...” It only occurred to him then that he had no clue on the bride and groom’s names. “To all the lovely couples we have here tonight. So, let’s drink and give each other a big smooch as the romantic suckers that we are!”  
  
If there ever was a prize for the fakest smile, his performance right then would smash the competition. To his great joy, however, the guests chuckled and did so, as he and Cas, who was standing at the side of the stage, shared a knowing glance: that was their chance to spot whoever would go crazy.

“What about you, though? You’re far too pretty not to be kissed.”  
Dean’s gaze fell on the woman who spoke: he recognised her from earlier, as one of the bridesmaid. She was beautiful, although not exactly his type, which meant she probably didn’t have time to switch to another aspect. Dean didn’t doubt, though, that if he had been just a normal guy, he probably would have fall for her right away.

“I’m not being kissed either, so, you know, I figured we could help each other out...”  
Her voice reminded Dean of lullabies and he made an effort not to be completely charmed by it.

“Thanks but... No thanks.”  
The rest of the crowd had gone back to minding their own business, but when Dean descended the stage the woman seemed in no intention to accept his denial. She trailed after him, lasciviously grabbing him by the arm or the waist. Definitely not subtle for a siren, but well, Dean figured, she was just making life easier for them. Although they still needed an infected person’s blood to gank her.

“Look, I told you, I’m not interested...” He mumbled, attempting to put some distance between them.

“He’s taken.” A familiar voice announced and Dean turned to see Cas march their way, resolution on his face. He grabbed Dean by his other arm. “Sorry I lost you, babe.”  
_Babe_? Since when did Cas... And then it hit him. Before Dean could process his plan completely, though, Cas was already pulling him down for a kiss. Dean totally wasn’t prepared for that. He found his lips against Cas’s as his eyes were still open and his ears were ringing. But something about it didn’t quite match the many times he had imagined it happening. It was cold and, in a way, far too sexual, considering it was only to keep up a cover.

“Dean, no!” A third voice shouted, which Dean knew he wasn’t supposed to be hearing, as the person it belonged to currently had his lips occupied. Then, a feeling of numbness crept into his brain. He broke the contact and turned around, seeing another Cas, with a terrified expression on his face.  
Beside him, the Cas he just kissed and the woman from before were smiling.

“There... There’s two of you...” He whispered, feeling his will slip away.

“Oh hon, didn’t they tell you?” The woman stroked his face. “You should never long for a thing so much, because you’ll end up trusting anything that can give it to you.”

“You should be with me.” Siren Cas started, intertwining his fingers with Dean’s. “I can be just like him, I can be anything you wish. I’m strong, Dean. You’d never have to be afraid of losing me. I’d never leave you.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Cas stated, pulling out the dagger. “He’s the siren, Dean.”

“You gotta take him out. He’ll never let us be happy.” The siren insisted.  
The order made sense in Dean’s mind, to the point of raising a blind anger towards Cas. He attacked, but Cas was fast enough to dive and Dean felt his arm hurt. It took him a few seconds to notice Cas had managed to cut him on the arm and was now advancing towards his other self.  
The siren’s escape was blocked due to the confusion of the screaming crowd, and Dean shuddered when he saw the blade sink into him and those blue eyes widen in pain.  
He’s not Cas, his mind tried to suggest, as the enchantment slowly wore off. He dropped to his knees, unable to run after the other siren, who disappeared in the crowd.

“Stay with me.” Suddenly, Cas, the real Cas, was cupping his face: his touch was tender and gentle and Dean couldn’t help but leaning in. “We need to get out of here.”  
Dean’s brain wasn’t probably registering half of the events happening around him, but, as Cas dragged him outside with a hand around his waist, he struggled enough to manage to spit out: “I knew it wasn’t you.”  
Cas didn’t reply, although Dean felt his grip tighten.

-

Dean woke up with his head against the car’s window. Outside, the road passed in blurry photograms

“Dude, are you driving?” He mumbled, trying to come to terms with the vision of Cas in the driver seat of the Impala. To be honest, he found it hotter than it was socially acceptable.

“I’m going at the speed limit. The car will be fine.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”  
The look Cas shot him was somewhere between concern and disbelief.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“My brain is all squishy and my pride has left the building but apart from that... Yeah, I guess.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed for.”

“I got played, Cas. We knew damn well what we were after and I still fell right into his trap anyway. I also let the other one escape, which means God-knows how many more people she’ll kill.”

“There was another hunter at the wedding. He approached me as I carried you to the car, said he’d take care of her and of covering us.”

A hint of relief washed over Dean at that news. At least his stupid crush wouldn’t cost anyone their life.

“You had no way of knowing it wasn’t me.” Cas added, his tone dubious.

“Stop it, Cas. I should have known you’d never kiss me. Not even for a cover.”

“That’s not true.” This time, there was no room for uncertainty in Cas’s voice. “I’ve kissed you a thousandth times. The first one, I still remember, was when you gave me back my trenchcoat. I kissed you in that barn, when I was crazy and we went to retrieve the Impala. I kissed you in Purgatory, just before I let you leave without me. I kissed you when I thought I’d have to close the gates of Heaven, I kissed you when I kissed April, I kissed you every time I saw you again after that. I still kiss you now, every time you tuck in for bed or every time I hear you humming songs in the kitchen or every time you show me a new movie or every time your arm brushes against mine. In my mind, I kiss you all the time.”

And wow, Dean did not see this one coming. Cas’s eyes never left the road during his whole speech, his fingers tightening around the wheel.

“Stop the car.” Dean found himself saying.

“Dean...” Cas protested, and it hurt Dean beyond words to hear his voice crack with regret.

“I said stop the damn car.”

Dean barely gave him time to pull over before he abandoned his seat and jumped on Cas’s, his legs around the former angel’s lap. He let his hands slide from Cas’s shoulders to his elegant neck and then to his cheeks. He leaned in to grasp Cas’s lips and, this time, it was still different from how he had imagined it, but because, it turned out, it was even better.  
Cas arched his head against the seat, his hand inevitably falling on Dean’s shoulder, where the ghost of the handprint still burnt.  
It wasn’t the most comfortable position for either of them - Dean hoped he could have offered Cas something better that a make-out session in the car like two horny teenagers, yet, as it often happened when he shared something with Cas, it didn’t matter how dismal or dull the place or situation was, as long as they were together.  
Cas pulled away for a second, letting Dean’s lips fall on his chin and then down on his neck: since they were playing teenagers, Dean figured he might as well leave a few love bites here and there.

“I thought you didn’t want to risk it...” Cas whispered, although the last words got lost into a moan.

“That was just me being a chicken because I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”

“You’re an idiot, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, I figured.”  
They laughed, as Cas moved his other hand through Dean’s hair.

“Now shut your mouth.” Dean ordered, smiling as he pined Cas against to the seat. “I have to make up for all the times I didn’t kiss you back.”

For the first time, Dean felt at peace, as if he got assurance that, in spite of his fears, it would all work out. Maybe this was how it was meant to go. Maybe he could make it. Maybe, with Cas.


End file.
